


House Of Cards | Monitoring Your Heart Beat

by HaruPotter15



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Amy lives, Angst, Arguing, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dale Horvath Gives Therapy Sessions, Dale Horvath Lives, Daryl Dixon & Glenn Rhee Friendship, Depression, Everyone Has Issues, Explicit Language, F/M, Fear, Fix-It of Sorts, Gore, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Logan Blythe & Amy Friendship, Logan Blythe & Daryl Dixon Friendship, Lori Grimes Bashing, Lots of sarcasm, M/M, OMC Wakes Up To TWD World, Scars, Shane Walsh Bashing, Slow Burn, Snark, Someone Just Save Me Already, Sophia Peletier Lives, Trapped in another world, Why Did I Write This?, Worried Rick Grimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-05 16:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruPotter15/pseuds/HaruPotter15
Summary: Logan Blythe is 15 when he tries to take his life and partiality succeeds when he ends up in a coma. He wakes up many years later locked incide a cell and cuffed to a bed. Now 21, dressed in a stupid orange jumpsuit and behind bars, he realizes he is, undoubtedly, in his sisters favorite TV show. Oh, the joy.----------





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of fix-it fic where the main character is unconsciously saving people and just randomly fixing things. It's not his fault that his sister had randomly dragged him off to watch a stupid TV series and now he only knows bits and pieces and has to find ways to just stop death in its rise. Even in a coma, life is apparently still hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my FIRST ATTEMPT at a TWD Fanfic so here goes....
> 
> 1\. unbeta'ed (as usual)  
> 2\. may be slightly OOC for a few characters  
> 3\. Someone save me from all the fandom's pls

 

  **Chapter One: Logan. Just Logan.**

 

 An ominous boom startled Logan out of his abysmal nightmare and he sat up with a start. His cheeks were wet and his body was bathed in a cold sweat. The sheets were twisted around his limbs, probably because he was thrashing in his sleep. His heart pounded against his chest. The room was entirely dark. No light anywhere. The remnants of Logan's nightmare still clung to his mind, haunting him in flashes of blood dripping down from his hands and echoes of screams dwelling in his ears. His breathes came out in short, quick puffs of air. He tried to lift his left hand up to his face but the rough and cold metal restraint around his writs made it difficult. A hoarse chuckle passed between his lips and instead, he brought his right hand up for his fingers to thread through his messy black hair. Squinting his gray eyes, Logan could make out the outline of the bed that he was sat on and the bars that caged him in. He was in a cell. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Logan concentrated more on his surroundings - There was a fallen chair beside a wooden desk just outside the bars and the door to the left seemed to be baracaded by a small sofa. He turned his head away from the baracaded door and looked towards the door on the far left. It wasn't baracaded. Just closed. Logan briefly wondered if he'd be able to escape but the heavy weight around his wrist reminded him that he was cuffed and caged. Just like an animal. 

 

A sudden flash of light illuminated the room in blinding light and Logan shielded his eyes with his right arm, a groan erupting from the back of his throat. "Are you bit?", A voice, steady and obviously heavy with an accent demanded in question. "Am I what?", Logan's voice slurred slightly as he dropped his arm back down - A gun was promptly pointed at him through the bars of his cell. He resisted the urge to roll his gray eyes and instead lifted his view from the gun to a face. It was a male, around his mid thirties with dark brown wavy hair, sharp blue eyes and a bit of a stubble. He was dressed in a Sheriff's uniform, khaki coloured and all. Well, at least Logan thought that's what he saw with the light from the torch the male was holding. “Are you bit?”, The man asked once more, lifting his torch and shining it at Logan’s hideous orange jumpsuit. The younger of the two scowled. “Are you trying to blind me? Cause if you are, you're doing a damn good job”, He countered, gray eyes narrowed and one hand raised slightly over his eyes. The sheriff hesitantly lowered his gun along with his torch and let out a sharp sigh. “Alright”, He concludes, “I'm coming in”. This time Logan does roll his eyes, “Sure”, He says as he pats the space at the side off him on the bed, “Make yourself at home, _Officer_ ”.

 

\----

 

The Sheriff’s car pulls up towards a campsite and Logan promptly doesn't look towards it. Instead he concentrates on the metal handcuff around his left wrist, that once again, is cuffed to the roof holder above him. The only reason he had gotten himself into this position was that he had tried to sneakily get away, he had succeeded for a few minutes, and then he had been caught red handed by the Sheriff. That later lead on to a conversation in the car that Logan payed no mind to. Instead, he opted to look at the surroundings through the window as the Sheriff blabbered on about being safe and whatnot. “We're here”, The older male of the two states and Logan grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still pinned down on the cuff around his left wrist. The door to his right opens, there's the sound of shuffling and then the door closes once more. Logan doesn't pay it much attention.

  
_“He could be dangerous!”_ , A Woman's voice reaches Logan’s ears in a hushed whisper. The black haired male turns his head to the source of the sound and notices through the front window of the car, that the Sheriff is talking to a tall female with long dark brown hair. Her eyes are glaring down the Sheriff while he holds up his hands in surrender. Logan snorts. It’s a comical sight, really. A dark haired, slightly tanned male then walks over to the two with a scowl at his face, eyes narrowed dangerously. He scoffs at the Sheriff and then mutters something lowly, his eyes flickering over to Logan who stares at him blankly. He clicks his tongue as the three make their way over to the car and hopes, for whatever chance there is, that one of them trips and accidentally smashes their head and dies. At least Logan would have something to laugh at then. The door at his side opens, courtesy of the Sheriff and then the female of their little group eyes him warily, arms crossed over her chest and nose scrunched up in distaste like she's just sucked on a lemon or something. The other male leans against the car, and his dark eyes drop to glare down at the handcuffed male. “Got a name?”, He asks, lips twisting up in mock friendliness and words twisting with his accent. It’s a low kind of slur, similar to the Sheriff's accept the fact that the Officer’s voice isn't so heavy. Logan raises his line of sight, his gray eyes narrow and the corner of his lips turn up slightly, “It’s common courtesy to state your name before you ask for another's”, He chids, words flowing out in an even pace and voice low with his own accent. He’s always been taught to talk to others with manners _(not that he doesn't slip up with his sarcastic remarks though)_ , posh literally smeared into his words. “English”, The male states with a scoff as he notices the others accent and Logan stares up at him as if he has more than one head. “British, actually”, Logan corrects, voicing the difference.

 

“Rick Grimes”, The Sheriff introduces himself after a moment of silence with a smile, blue eyes making contact with gray orbs. “This is my wife Lori”, He says, motioning towards the female with the long brown hair and the sour look on her face. “That's Shane”, Rick nods his head over to the other male leaned on the car, he's currently scowling and wiping sweat of his brow. “Logan”, The handcuffed of the group voices. Lori stares at him indifferently, as if waiting for him to elaborate with a last name and Logan slowly licks over his bottom lip.

 

“Just... Logan”, He reassures after a small pause. It's the best he can do. He doesn't even know where he is.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This was my first attempt at a TWD Fanfic and I hope it wasn't as horrible as it seemed to be for me... Thoughts? Kudos? Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning!
> 
> 1\. unbeta'ed (as usual)  
> 2\. may be slightly OOC for a few characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally decided to update - Hope you all enjoy it.

 

 

> **Chapter Two:** **Panic! In The Woods**

 

There is a distance in Logan’s eyes as he takes a few steps backwards, bumping into the RV like he wasn't expecting it. Rick stares at him as the others tend to their jobs, none of them noticing the way Logan falls limp against the RV or he he swallows a lump in his throat as he catches a reflection of himself in the rear mirror. Panic seems to then surge through him as he raises a hesitant hand and gently pats his fingertips onto his cheek, gray eyes wide and lips parted slightly. Logan drops his hand and instead runs his finger through his messy black hair. Rick eyes the other male in confusion and then heads on towards him, his footsteps quiet against the ground. “You alright?”, The officer asks, blue eyes catching the way Logan flinched ever so slightly. There was a pause and then Logan raises his head with a glare in his storm like eyes, his lips curled up into a sneer and his fingers wrapped themselves a around the material of his orange jumpsuit. “Fine”, He stresses through his teeth a few seconds later and Rick nods his head in a way that he knows that Logan is lying but he doesn't say anything about it. “Whatever”, The younger male of the two shakes hies head and with a scoff turns to walk towards the woods.

 

\----

 

Disbelief was high in Logan's mind, except it wasn't the only thing - _there was grass on the infield_ for Christ's sake! He was _so_ not in his 15 year old's body. “ _What the fuck”,_ He whispers to himself as he stops in his steps and runs a hand through his disheveled black hair, gray eyes fluttering closed and mind running a mile. _“I’m in a fucking TV show”,_ He hushes through his teeth, _“I’m British! This only happens to Americans”,_ He whines and his shoulders drop as he opens his eyes to the familiar surroundings of _The Walking Dead_ . He solemnly let's his eyes wander around the woods, fatigue screaming from every crevice of his body in anguish and - Logan takes a deep breath and with a shaky hand quickly pushes up the sleeve of his orange jump suit on his right arm. As always, it's covered up in scars, they line up from his elbow all the way down to his wrist. They're all much smoother and paler compared to the skin that was left untouched from his self harming days. He sucks in another breath as he presses his fingers over the large scar on his wrist, he doesn't remember that one, _unless…_ It had been the last one, the final cut that had taken his life. _So much for that_ , Logan thinks sourly as he covers the scars back up.

 

His ears then twitched, the sound of metal clasping and clicking into place reaching his ears like a distant shout and he narrowed his gray eyes in the direction it came from. It was further down in the woods. And Logan ran without hesitation, like the winter breeze colliding into inanimate objects and crashing waves hitting the shore line. Like eagles soaring across indigo skies and a herd of cheetahs racing through verdant meadows. His dark coloured locks whipped back and forth behind him like a fiery tale as he flung himself over sharp rocks and heavy tree trunks. He had only reached to a stop because a low groan had made him - it was the type of groan that a starved out animal would utter in the deepest depths of an alley way. Except, Logan swallowed as his eyes fell upon a detestable being, it was anything but an animal. It's jaw was dislocated, about five centimeters away from where it should be, it's chest had so many bullet holes you would think is was a target at a firing range. It’s skin was a ghastly resemblance between something too pale and something too sickeningly green and its lips were the colour of rusted iron. Blood was splattered like red paint across its whole body and bones were visible from underneath clumps of decaying skin.

 

For all it was worth, Logan thought the _Walkers_ would be unnerving, a bloodcurdling sight to behold - But they were like robots, sort of, just standing or aimlessly walking around only doing their initiative if they smelt something to eat in the air. It was like they were coded to do the things they did, everything else was just a foreign concept, an unknown language not worth learning. The black haired male frowned as the Walker sniffed the air, it turned its head with the sound of its neck cracking into place and - It was blind, its eyes had been gouged out probably by its last victim in a desperate measure to stay alive. Logan wondered if he should slowly inch away and then make a run for it, or if he should walk towards it and casually start a conversation. If he was lucky enough it would quickly eat him up and he'd be dead once more.

 

_Logan - ‘Hey there Zombie, I was wondering if you could perhaps have me as a snack before your main course?’_

 

_Walker - ‘raawr raAAWRr’_

 

Yeah, that wouldn't exactly be the most intelligent conversation. Rolling his gray eyes at himself, Logan decided to make his way at least through the first four to five episodes, and maybe, then he would let himself get eaten. It sounded like an alright plan, at least for the moment. He steadily then inched away from the Walker and when he was at a safe distance to run, he bolted once more. He ran through branches, skin catching grazes and already turning purple in places until, he stopped once more. This time, it was to the sight of Daryl Dixon sat against a tree, his crossbow nowhere in sight and blood covering his freshly bruised face.The bruise that had begun as a purple stain above his eyebrow had sunk into the socket itself, and so now it had the appearance of a black eye - the rednecks shirt was torn apart and his abdomen was lined with the canvas of purple and red. He was heavily breathing, Logan knew the male had a few broken ribs. Th redneck looked like a truck had just ran over him - But… That didn't happen in the original series. Was it because Logan had shown up? Was he already altering _their_ universe? Logan felt his throat tighten and hastily made his way towards the blue eyed redneck. “Hey”, He whispered as he crouched down in front of Daryl, gray eyes flickering over the other male's body in alarm. Daryl grunted, his eyes lifted themselves from the ground and then up at Logan with a squint. “Wadya want?”, He rasped out, pain obvious in his voice as he winced when he tried to move into a more comfortable position. Logan let out a rough, low laugh and settled his hand over Daryl’s heart to check his pulse. Gray eyes then hesitantly looked behind the tree and the younger of the two cursed under his breath. “You got any weapons on you?”, Logan asked as he then placed the palm of his hand against the rednecks forehead. There were about a dozen of walkers making their way steadily towards the two. Logan could feel his heart traveling up his neck. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Daryl gave him a knowing look and stiffly nodded towards his left side, Logan turned his head to follow the movement. “A bat?”, He questioned, voice steady and face suddenly masked in an unreadable expression. Daryl stared at the black haired male with something akin to pity in swirling blue orbs, there was no way they were going to get out of this alive. He could hear the Walkers, their sounds of utter hunger and anguish reaching his ears in a warning.

 

The redneck heard Logan take a deep breath and then he was on his feet, he rolled his neck into place with a crack and pushed up the sleeves of his orange jumpsuit. Daryl licked over his dry lips, “What’re you doin’?”, He warily asked, eyes flickering to the marks vividly scattered across the young male's arms. He didn't get an answer. Instead a Walker stepped forward towards them, one of its arms had been decapitated and it was missing an ear. It growled at Logan and then rushed forward in a lunge, its jaw snapping open and hunger sparking in its eyes - Daryl only saw the way Logan stomped his foot onto the handle of the baseball bat and how it sprang into the air and twirled around his left arm before he grasped it with two hands and swung it. It happened too fast and before Daryl could even blink, the head of the Walker was flying through the air in a home run.

  
_“Holy shit”,_ was all he could mutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos! Any thoughts on this chapter? Comments keep me going :)


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